


Fins

by WickedMusic96



Category: Jaws (Movies)
Genre: Drinking, M/M, Quint is drunk and being a cad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 12:04:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7933963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WickedMusic96/pseuds/WickedMusic96
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt Hooper knows a lot about the sharks that reside in the waters, but it's the ones on land that give him trouble. One shot, bit of a deviation from canon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fins

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a friend on tumblr, and it came about while we were discussing the song "Fins" by Jimmy Buffet, and then this idea of Matt Hooper taking place of the new person in Amity Island, in relation to the "only bait in town" within the song context popped into my brain.

It had been a long trip, and Matt Hooper decided the best way to cool down after giving a lecture to one of the college courses outside of the beach was to head down to one of the nearest seaside bars in Amity Island. He had been called down from his college teachings and marine studies to lecture a group of students at Amity for the summer on the breeding habits and locations of sharks in the surrounding area, which, while he wasn't sure what information they were retaining, the pay was good, and it did get him closer to the reef than the brief stint in Cincinnati. He had changed out of his suit and tie for something more comfortable, well fitting capris and a loose button-up. As he entered the bar, the back of his brain tried to fire off a warning that he should head back, since the moment he opened the door, a hush seemed to fall over the room, and all eyes were on him. He didn't pay them any mind, and briskly made his way to the bar, sitting at a small open barstool. Within a moment of him entering, the crowd went back to their usual talking and mingling. "I'll take a Cuba libre." "Sure you can handle that?" Matt shot the man a short glare and smirk, and placed a wad of bills on the counter as the bartender whipped up the drink. He tried to keep as close to himself as he could, not wanting to attract any of the wrong attention as he slowly sipped his drink. He was lost in thought over what he should teach the students next, having brought his planner under his sweatshirt, and looked over the agenda, when a shadow loomed over the light he was using.

"Excuse me, I was using that light." He was given a loud chuckle in response, and he turned to see who happened to be standing next to him. It was a tall man, wearing a blue jean cutoff, and a tight baseball cap, glass of whisky clutched in his worn, sun-tanned hand. While Matt was outside for the most part with the class, he tended to burn easily, so every few seconds he would reapply his sunscreen, and as a result stayed pretty pale, but this guy looked more like he was constantly out in it, and judging by the scent of ocean water on his skin, was probably a sailor. "Uh...can I help you,sir?" Another chuckle. " Matter o' fact, ya can. You're new 'round here, ain't ya?" Matt narrowed his eyes at the man, who he had just realized was at least 20 years his senior, and plastered at that. "...Yes? I'm teaching the students who are here for a summer class." "What're you teaching them?" "Marine biology. Sharks mainly." The older man laughed again, this time a deep guffaw, and Matt winced at the response. He wasn't happy to hear someone laugh at what he considered to be passionate work, but he took another sip of his drink, barely aware of the man plopping down next to him on the adjacent bar stool. "Ya got a name, teacher boy?" Matt rolled his eyes, and pushed up his glasses. "Matt. Matt Hooper. Professor Hooper to the students." The older man cocked an eyebrow, and gave him another drunken smile, one that Matt noted seemed kinda lecherous, but he figured it was the drunken state and lighting. "Name's Quint. I sail these here waters. Have hunted a great many sharks around in my time, as well as simple fishing. You ever go fishing, Matt?" "Yes, I have a few times when I was younger." He was about to turn around and leave with his drink to somewhere else in the bar, or just leave outside altogether, when the older man had slapped a rough hand onto the other man's shoulder, causing him to jump at the sudden contact. Matt looked at the other man, half in annoyance, and half in terror. What the hell was happening? Could the bartender see this? He wondered if he could try and best the man, maybe shove him off, but he had a good grip on Matt's shoulder, and was slowly rubbing his arm. The older man's face suddenly got much closer too, and Matt could smell the mixture of salt water and whisky on his breath. "Maybe....after one of your classes....I could take you out fishin'. Ya could teach me a few things...." Quint moved a bit closer still, and Matt was struggling to not yelp when he felt the man's leg rub up against his own. "An....I could teach you a few things as well."

"'scuse me, Quint," came a voice that Matt hadn't heard before, and turned at the new sound. Much to his relief, there stood one of the police officers, one whom Matt had become acquainted with before starting his courses. Quint turned as well, a bit slower, both addled by his drink, and the fact that he didn't want to be interrupted from his conversation with the now jittery young man. He finally turned when he caught a glimpse of the badge on the shirt. "Well, howdy, sheriff. What do you want?" The officer smirked, more in annoyance at the drunken man than anything, and pursed his lips. "I want you to leave the poor man alone. He's busy with his schedule as is; he doesn't need your drunken advances tonight or any other night. So, git." The last part was said in brief imitation of the drunken man's slur, and Quint took a few seconds to scowl at the man, and then give Matt another look over, before stumbling up. "I'll see you around, Professor." he grinned, and Matt gave a small noise of both annoyance and relief of him leaving, and Quint made his way to another section of the bar. It was then that Matt relieved a sigh he wasn't aware he was holding in. "Thank you, chief..." "Brody. Martin Brody." The man sat down next to Matt, cheering him with his own pint of what looked to be an ale of some sort. "If he starts buggin' you again, you call me over, alright. I don't want you or him to get in any trouble." Matt nodded, and took another swig of his drink. He resumed looking over his planner for all of five seconds, when he could tell that Brody had been reading over his shoulder, and also hadn't left his side. "Uh, shouldn't you be patrolling the bar for any hooligans, or something? I can take care of myself." The other man laughed and Matt looked back down again, right into the glass of his drink, trying to ignore him. "Please, Mr. Hooper. I saw how Quint was acting. Believe me, he does that to anyone new in the bar, male or female. He sees it as some sort of game, I think. How many young lives can I ruin with my charm before Officer Brody breaks it up." Matt stared at him in pseudo horror at how casual he was mentioning this. "Is he-" "No, he doesn't drug them or fight them. He just wears them down a bit. Leaves a lot of broken hearts and empty promises as well." Now it was time for Brody to put his arm around Matt's shoulder, and he glanced at the other man's hand, seeing the wedding ring, and feeling the uncomfortable closeness again. "Stick with me, Matt. It'll be better for you in the long run." He nodded, slowly. "I'll, uh, keep that in mind." And he took another drink. He was about to ask a question as to why Brody was being so nice, when there was a loud crashing noise of glass breaking. Matt didn't even need to turn; the shouting tipped him off. "You bastard! Ya brushed me off so ya could get closer to him, huh?" Brody sighed, and excused himself from a now mortified Matt, to try and calm the ranting man. Matt wasn't even paying attention to what was being said, and instead preoccupied himself with staring at the inside of his glass, running his fingers over the bridge of his nose. It was gonna be a long summer, he could count on that.


End file.
